In a World of Magic
by Noir Lime Canuto
Summary: The tale of Argus Filch. Because it deserved to be told.
1. Cats, Owls, and CedarWood Doors

"Now, Gus, I know you didn't want to come with, but you really should have. It's hard to find the wand when the wizard isn't present, I just hope you haven't offended it."

"Mum, you can't offend wands. And if you could, I would either way. They don't like Squibs, I bet. No one does."

"Oh come off it! You're not a Squib!"

"I can't perform magic, and I didn't get a letter from Hogwarts. I'm. A. Squib."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Gussy? It must have gotten lost in the mail! Owls mess up sometimes!"

"Not a Hogwarts owl. Niobe says that they're more reliable that her pet one is."

"Speaking of pets..."

"We were speaking of Squibs."

"I bought you one!"

"You bought me a Squib?"

"No, Gus, I bought you a pet! A cat!"

"A cat? Can they carry letters too?"

"Well, no, but owls are incredibly expensive, and..."

"And you know I wont need one when I attend the muggle school down in the village."

"No! We just aren't as able this year to make ends meet, so much."

"We're better off than we were when you bought Niobe her owl."

"Come off it, we aren't, and you have no idea how good off we are or aren't!"

"Papa isn't as quiet as he thinks he is when he mutters."

"Come now, you'll like this kitten! She's very smart, from what Merotilna, from Diagon Alley, you remember her, told me."

As if on cue, the door opened. It was a rather beaten door, cedar wood, and towards the top someone had taped a piece of parchment against it that said, 'Argus.'

Argus had heard somewhere that the stripes on animals were so that they blended in amongst the trees and each other, but he thought the small kitten's stripes only served to make her stand out against his room. She looked up at him, watching him watch her. All the cats he'd ever known had enjoyed staring contests. This cat, however, did not seem up for it. Perhaps because she was so young, it was her attention span at work. She blinked at him, twice, slowly. It seemed the natural thing to do, so he blinked back. He didn't care if his hysterical mother was beaming on the other side of the door, he was too busy studying the yellow quality of the kitten's lamp-like eyes. She seemed to be equally as fascinated with the shade of blue in the confines of his own.

"I'm going to name him Noris," he announced to the door.

"It's a girl-cat," came the now quivering voice of the witch behind the door.

"I'm going to name her _Mrs._ Noris."

"That's a lovely name."

"Yeah. Thanks for the cat, mum. She's really nice."

"I knew you'd love her, Gus."

"No you didn't," he muttered bitterly under his breath, "You knew she was cheap, and you knew I was a Squib, not worth an owl." The cat took a few ginger steps forward and nudged the door closed with her head, with some effort.

"It's just as well," he said, his voice, still quiet, now soft, "I think you're better than an owl. Pleased to meet you, _Mrs._ Noris. I'm _Mr._ Filch."


	2. Of Amazing People

"Mum, I am _not_ getting on that train!" he pleaded, his eyes, despite his efforts, filling up with tears. "I don't belong there! Please! _Please_, don't make this hurt any-any," he choked on the word, "any-more than it does!" He looked from the tall, slender, long-faced witch to the slightly shorter witch beside her. She shorter one had a shorter face, too, it was round and gentle. She had slight lips and large, gray-blue eyes. Her hair was a dark sort of brown-gray color, it lay straight and shimmering although he knew it to be naturally curly. This time, he directed his words to the shorter witch. "_Please, Niobe,_ tell mother I can't go! Tell her they_ don't _let _Squibs_ in!"

The witch looked up at her mother, "They don't let Squibs in, mum," she told her simply, a look of disgust on her face. For a moment, the hot tears ran down his cheeks because he thought that her disgust was meant for him. "I can't believe you," she said, "Can't you just accept it? He isn't magical. Just let him go to a muggle school! That's what Jenna Exorca's mother did. You're really, truly ridiculous. Buying him all of those school books. Telling him about the houses." She shook her head, apparently deciding something. The girl's lips grew thinner, and she took her brother's hand.

"Niobe?" he choked, not sure what she was going to do with him. Mrs. Noris hissed, her yellow eyes still on the tallest witch.

"Come with me, I'm taking you to muggle London. We're buying you some books that you'll actually be using at your school," she said, her voice firm and distant. She began walking, dragging her cart behind her as Argus struggled to do the same with his own. He tried to look back, as he ran to keep up with his sister's brisk pace, but tears clouded his eyes, and it was no use. Mrs. Noris made a sort of purring moan, and his flow of tears lightened a little.

"In muggle schools, you study mathematics. Dealing with numbers, and how they act around one another. Science, too, which is sort of like Herbology and Potions. You'll also learn about muggle politics, and the muggle world."

"Do muggles have a Minister of Magic, too? A d-d-different one, I mean?"

"Yes, Gus, they call their's a Prime Minister," her voice seemed to stop short, and she coughed to cover it up, but he noticed anyways.

"Because they don't have magic."

"Yes, basically. It's nothing to be ashamed of," she said quickly, "There are millions of amazing people who're amazing without magic. You'll just—just end up being one of those."


	3. A Better Answer

Argus stayed in his room. Mother was having one of her fits again. It had been four years since her daughter Niobe had moved out and stopped speaking to her. It had been six years since her son Argus had chosen to attend muggle school. It had been fifteen years since her then-husband Alphycus had left them. It was as if everyone she had ever invested her heart in had tried to destroy her.

"Muggle school! Muggle school! When he knows-- when he _knows _he's a wizard! Wouldn't listen! _Never listens_! Sits in his room_ talking_ to that damned _cat_ of his! Asks me! _He asks me_ can I have _friends over_! Muggles _in my house_, like they were _wizards_! Well enough_ on their own_, but never _never_ in _my house_! Have_ their own world_! Took my son!_ My son_, my _only_ son! Has his _father's_ face--" which, Argus thought from upstairs, wasn't entirely true. His face and nose were long like his mother's. His eyes were round and blue like hers, though perhaps a shade brighter. You could argue that he had his father's ears or lips, but that hardly constituted his face.

"--_Left me_! For some, _some awful_ ministry _witch_! Says he_ never_ would have stayed! Says it was the, says it was _the children_ kept him there so _long_! Says Argy,_ Argy_ is two now, but he can't _take it_ any longer! Says I'm a_ loon_! Says to send him to _Bath_ over the, _over the god-dammed Summer_! To visit him! To _visit _him, _him_! The nerve, _the nerve_! I ask him is he_ sure_! He tells me, he has the nerve, _the nerve_ to tell me that darling, _darling_ Niobe is _of course_ welcome as well!"

This was news. As his mother broke into defeated, furious sobs, Argus pondered, like he did from time to time, his father. He'd received letters from him on Holidays, and Argus always lied that he was attending Hogwarts. Made up how many O.W.L.'s gotten. His father was so proud. He was always proud, happy of Argus. Not just of his wizarding talent, of his wit, of his humor. His father liked him very much, but he had never so much as hinted at a visit. That explained it all. He's simply run away then, if he was welcome. School was almost over anyway.

"What do you think, Mrs. Filch?" he asked his cat, who had been lounging faithfully at his side. "Should we run away? Never speak to mother again, like Be did?" The cat blinked and rubbed her head against his arm. Her answer wasn't a 'Yes' or a 'No', it was an 'I'll follow you anywhere,' which was much better in Argus's books. Not that he had many books, he wasn't a big reader.


	4. Ellega's Greeting

Argus's trunk was packed. He smiled at it. It was neat and clean. He liked things clean. When they weren't orderly, it made him anxious, and when he was anxious, things got out of hand. So, he made sure everything he owned was well kept, and, to his mother's joy, made sure everything else in the house was too. Oddly enough, he never cleaned his prize possession. In fact, she could barely be called a possession at all. She was a bright cat and, really, who could own a cat anyway. Mrs. Noris seemed to have the same opinion of cleanliness as Argus. She too cleaned obsessively, though she tended to clean herself. There was something soothing about the way she would lick her fur slowly, following a pattern as if trimming a lawn. Argus tried to repeat such actions when dusting-- that is, he moved the duster slowly in a pattern. Mopping too. It was a very nice way to relieve stress.

"Ready, Mrs. Noris?" he whispered, smiling softly. Perhaps by coincidence, she meowed affectionately, and rubbed against his leg. Then, holding her head high, she climbed into her carrier. Some cats thought it was degrading to ride in a kitty-carrier. Mrs. Noris, however, thought it a luxury; Argus going out of his way to make sure she was safe, and then carrying her so she wouldn't have to walk. It represented her equality with him. Argus liked equality. Having things even was soothing.

He opened the door, and just like that, trunk in arm, he left. He didn't look back, he just held gently onto the kitty-carrier. Mrs. Noris, meanwhile, kept trying to catch a last glimpse of the house that Argus had seen enough of. She was being bumped up and down, though, so her vision was a blur, and she eventually gave up.

It was not long before they arrived at his fathers house. A week was not a long time at all. He'd used his vast knowledge of the muggle world to transport him there, and as if by a different sort of magic, he was knocking at the door. It wasn't a grand house, but it wasn't feeble either. It stood proudly but was rather small in size. It was a particular shade of blue that reminded Argus of something. A light gray blue he had seen somewhere before. Almost the ocean, but not green enough.

Filch saw a doorbell and pressed, but instead of hearing the ringing of bells he heard the ringing of a voice. It was, indeed, musical. "Coming!" It was clearly a witch's voice, and a happy one at that. A moment later the door opened, and Argus was greeted by the owner of the voice.

"Oh, hello!" she said, sounded surprised but not exactly displeased. Laughing to herself, she said, "Why, for a moment there I thought you were Pa. He's not due 'till six, of course, but you looked sort of like him, well look sort of like him, when I saw you just barely." She stumbled over her words, and was thankful when Argus changed the subject.

"Pa?" he asked. It was the name they had given back at, well, his old house, to the grumpy old gnome who lived in the garden. He was always muttering things, and was under the illusion that he owned the house.

"Oh, yes, why," the witch, just barely old enough to be his mother, a pretty ginger, said, pink rising in her cheeks, "Alphycus, I mean. Are-are you..." she tried to think through her words before she said them, now glowing with embarrassment, "Who are you?" she decided finally.

"My name is Argus Filch," he told her calmly. He wished she wouldn't keep acting to embarrassed, it was making him anxious.

"Oh! Oh, I thought, well, you do look like," she said, suddenly grinning broadly. "I'm your step-mother!" she announced excitedly, "Ellega! Oh, I've heard so much about you! Your father is so proud! You've just graduated Hogwarts, right?" Before he could lie she nodded, "Yes, yes, oh we've been meaning to call but-" she grinned broader, hiding what she was about to say, "Anyway, that's beside the point. Do come in! Alphycus will be in at six! Only about a half an hour, I should think."

It was more marvelous than he could have imagined, which was exactly why he hesitated to walk through the door frame. He didn't want to brace himself to be let down again.

**Author's Note: **_Thanks to all those who've been reading. I know the chapters are rather short, for that I apologize, you see I don't think Filch is the sort who remembers things while lavishing with great detail. Anyway, to those who've already reviewed, golly, I'm flattered, and glad you're enjoying it so far. I hope you continue to be pleased as I continue to write! :)_


	5. Four Owls, One Cat

Mrs. Norris noticed his hesitation to enter the house, and moved about in her carrier, clearly upset that it was keeping her from rubbing Argus encouragingly. However, in the end, he entered without her encouragement, and once he was inside he knew it was a mistake.

It was magical in the two senses of the words Argus was familiar with. There was a large fire place, larger than any he'd ever seen, in the room the woman led him into. There was also a large red velvet couch, which the witch gestured for him to sit in. Argus sat, afraid to speak for fear he could taint such a lovely room with his less-than-lovely voice.

"Would you like some, er, some tea, dear?" Ellega asked him, smiling hopefully. She seemed uncomfortable around him, he noticed. But not in a way that suggested that she didn't like him. He wasn't sure what it was, but he decided that he did like her. He shook his head no thank you, silent as ever. She said again that his father would be home soon, and mentioned something about fixing dinner, and wouldn't he care to stay for it. He nodded idly, still absorbed in the room he then became alone in.

Normally he would have feared being rude, but he was too busy thinking. Then he heard something. This time not the stuttering, rich voice of Ellega, but a loud, hollow, pure sound. Someone was at the door. When he didn't hear Ellega going to get it, he decided to. He left his trunk by the couch, but instinctively took the carrier and Mrs Norris with him to open the door.

The first thing he heard his father say was, "Oh, I'm allergic to cats," then came, "Gus?" then, "This is a little backwards, you should be confused on my doorstep, and I should be standing comfortably in the frame of my door."

Soon the three of them were sitting on the couch, though his father kept casting nervous glances at Mrs. Norris. "So, graduated have you? Wonderful, we've been meaning to have you. If you'd like to stay here for a while, that's fine by me. I imagine we'll appreciate receiving your N.E.W.T. Scores more than your-well, more than your mother would. Never one for standardized testing, I don't think-- only got four O.W.L.'s, herself, and splinched herself during her first three apparatus-- anyway, kicked you out, has she?"

**Author's Note: **_Thanks to all those who've been reading. Also, to those who've reviewed- you know, I had actually wondered about that spelling. I made the mistake of consulting my brother, rather than Google. Thank you, and kudos for noticing! R's are sneaky letters, sometimes I can't tell if they're gone and shouldn't be. Q's are trickier (usually it takes a U to put them in their place.)_


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